


Kissing Strangers

by fantasticalbird



Series: Candy Shop AU [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: A little d/s but nothing serious, Cam Boys, Edging, M/M, Massage Parlors, Seeking Arrangements, Seeking Arrangements Website, Sugar Daddy, no capes AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-09 17:06:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15272217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fantasticalbird/pseuds/fantasticalbird
Summary: Dick had been doing this for a while, not that he had told Jason that much, until he had to start explaining away the designer clothes and frequent date nights. The arrangements website was a safe way to meet guys who had a very specific desire in mind. Best of all, it was legal. Meaning no one could take away Dick’s well earned gifts as a proceed of crime.





	Kissing Strangers

**Author's Note:**

> No editing, we die like mne. Notes at the end of the work. Enjoy!

“Where the hell are you going? A funeral?” Jason complained from the couch, a vodka cooler in one hand and a switch controller in the other. 

  


“Unlike you, I have shit to do on my Fridays.” Dick sighed, popped out a dramatic hip and turned to look at the mirror in their living room. “Do I look stupid?” 

  


“Dickie,” Jason sighed, got to his feet and set his vodka cooler on the counter behind Dick. “You’re stupid gorgeous.” 

  


“That’s not what I asked.” Dick huffed as he let Jason play with his shirt collar, making sure it was straight along the neck. He was wearing a light blue dress shirt that cost as much as a month’s worth of groceries, and a pair of pants that could get them a replacement car. Jason didn’t even want to think of the pair of shined shoes. 

  


“You look like a spoiled rich brat from the Hampton’s, skimping off of Daddy’s credit card and looking for a fun way to make him nuts.” Jason commented, running his thumb along Jason’s bottom lip and catching the gloss there. “The only giveaway is the cologne.” 

  


It was a more feminine scent, accents of vanilla and a bit of coconut. Not cheap, but not tinged with the sharp musk of sandalwood, or musk. Jason pulled back, adjusted Dick’s expensive Armani belt and grinned. “It says you’ve done this before.” 

  


“Perfect.” 

  


: : : 

  


Dick had been doing this for a while, not that he had told Jason that much, until he had to start explaining away the designer clothes and frequent date nights. The arrangements website was a safe way to meet guys who had a very specific desire in mind. Best of all, it was  _ legal.  _ Meaning no one could take away Dick’s well earned gifts as a proceed of crime. 

  


Men and women alike scanned the website, and when they found something they liked, they chatted. Agreed on an allowance and met for the first time. It was easy money, literally. 

  


The hotel Dick was waiting at now was far nicer than most. Usually he’d meet in the bar at the Marriott, maybe a Hilton if people were feeling fancy. Mostly business men and women in Gotham and needing a little company. Dick could woo them with his charm, an easy smile, and grinned with his favorite starting line.  _ “Let’s see where the night takes us.”  _

  


For some reason tonight, he was feeling nervous. His current  _ daddy  _ was a security systems specialist, an ex-vet type. Dick had dealt with those plenty, all gruff and come hither orders. That wasn’t the problem. But, there was something about his voice on their first phone call, the calm and collected gravel that had stuck in Dick’s mind since the night before. Not to mention he was currently sitting at a bar at the Olympus Boutique Hotel in the heart of Gotham. Where Senators and Celebrities stayed and partied. 

  


There was no way this guy was going out of his way to woo Dick, and for the first time in possibly ever, Dick thought maybe this guy was out of his league. 

  


He sipped on his Whiskey Sour, flipping through the messages on his phone. There was one from Roy, gushing about the spinner auditions that Selena wanted him to sit in on. A few from Jason, mostly memes. He was almost lost in it when a somewhat familiar voice chimed out from behind him. 

  


“You’re right, you do look like an heir to some kind of business dynasty.” 

  


Dick tried to ignore the way the voice made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, instead, he turns and flashed a patented blinding smile, dimples and all. “You must be Slade.” 

  


“Dick.” Slade confirmed, not really asking, and sad next to him at the bar, flagging the bartender and ordering a top shelf bourbon. 

  


Sitting across from Dick in a button up shirt rolled to the elbows, and a pair of dark dress pants, Dick couldn’t help but notice how built he was. He was used to typical Dad bods, maybe a bit of muscle under a soft fleshy exterior. The kind of bodies that needed some praising, a bit of encouragement to get out of their shells. 

  


Slade was something else entirely. The white cotton of his shirt tugged across the expanse of his shoulders, wrapped tight on his upper arms, and tapered down to a tight waist. His pants clung to his thighs, thick and muscular in a way that made Dick want them wrapped around him. He was broad, and despite his age (in his fifties according to his profile), Slade didn’t really look a day passed his late thirties. The only dead giveaway was the snowy color of his hair, and even then, Dick would have never guessed. 

  


“You have some good references.” Slade chimes in, breaking Dick away from his stare that is threatening to burn through Slade’s shirt and straight to his pecs. 

  


“I work hard.” Dick shrugs, takes a sip of his whiskey sour, licks the sugar off his bottom lip. “Have you done this before?” 

  


“A few times.” Slade gives him a sideways grin, like he’s in on a secret that Dick isn’t, and it makes his stomach flip. The sharpness of his blue eyes boring into him. 

  


Before Dick can make a quip about how it’ll make things easier, or he’s glad, or recover from the way he’s staring like a horny amatuer Slade tips his glass back and empties it. “Why don’t we go upstairs and grab a drink, and see where the night takes us.” 

: : : 

  


They actually have a good time, and Dick’s almost surprised. Most of the time, with the men especially, it’s all pretty straight forward. Sure, there might be a beer or two, a dinner out, maybe a shared bath. But in the end, their tires are all spinning in the same direction. 

  


This time though, they’ve had dinner, and Dick’s cheeks are tinged pink from the two glasses of bourbon he’s had after dinner, and Slade hasn’t touched him once. Outside of placing a big paw on the small of his back, as he passed by him to get to the kitchenette in his suite. 

  


_ Easy money.  _ Dick tries to think, as Slade tells him about his life. His kids, his time in the army. But now Dick has inched closer on the sofa, is turned to face Slade with a tumbler in his hands, and he can’t keep his eyes off of his body, off of his mouth when he talks. 

  


He could leave, take this as a companionship experience and head out for the night. Instead, he sets his tumbler on the coffee table and catches Slade’s eye. Dick hasn’t asked him about it, doesn’t think it’s appropriate and honestly, doesn’t think it really matters. It doesn’t do anything to change the fact that Slade’s gaze, watching his motions, makes his mouth go dry. 

  


Normally Dick can read people, can sense what they want. He likes to cater to that, the performer in him wants the praise, wants people to take note. He likes to be liked, needs it, wants to be wanted, and more than anything, he wants people to  _ want to be with him. _ It’s a complicated mantra, one that he’s not keen to breakdown. He grew up in the limelight, shelving discomfort and uncertainty, a pavlovian response to adrenaline is to soak up the attention. 

  


Slade’s energy is cool and detached. Just enough that Dick knows he’s interested, but so little that he has nothing to grab onto, nothing to wrap himself around and exploit. There aren’t any openings, and Dick’s surprised by his own fumbling hands when he finally reaches out. Slade’s lips are skilled against his, the five o’clock shadow scratching against Dick’s skin as Slade kisses down his neck. Reaches a hand around Dick, grabs a handful off his ass and pulls him into his lap. 

  


“I was worried you weren’t interested.” Dick huffs out, strangles a moan when Slade lets his teeth skim over his collarbone. 

  


“Would have been the quickest cash you’ve made in a while.” Slade states against his skin, matter of factly, like this was all some test that Dick didn’t know about. Didn’t know if he had passed, or if it mattered. His expensive shirt is crumbled up and abandoned on floor, Slade’s got his massive calloused hands on Dick’s skin and it’s so hot, his stubble making his skin red as he chases kisses with his tongue and teeth. Dick hasn’t had a hickey since he was in highschool, but now all he can think of is how he wants Slade to mark him up. That he can’t get enough. 

  


“But, this is so much better.” Slade’s working his belt open, pulls the expensive leather in one motion. He looks like he’s going to toss it aside, but then wraps it around his hand and pulls it tight. Dick watches the motion with mesmerized eyes, should say something, should protest, tell him next time. Instead he breathes out a soft “Fuck.” 

  


“That’s the plan.” Slade grins wickedly and shifts, he raises them both to standing like its nothing, Dick with his thighs wrapped around Slade’s middle. He’s fighting with the buttons on Slade’s shirt, growls when he finally gets it off of Slade’s shoulders. Dick digs his teeth into the meet of his shoulder, pulling a grunt out of Slade before he dumps Dick unceremoniously on the bed. 

  


“Out of these.” He tugs on Dick’s pant leg, and then moves away, a gasping breath between them as Slade gets to his feet. Starts to undo his belt, undress like this is the most normal thing in the world. Like they’re going to curl up and go to sleep like a ten year married couple. Dick lays there for a moment, a bit dumbfounded. He watches Slade as he undresses, watches the muscles in his back shift, catches sight of a few scars sliding over powerful muscles. He feels a familiar flip in his belly, then he’s undoing his pants and shoving them off at the foot of the bed. 

  


“Everything.” Slade chimes without looking at him, and Dick peels his briefs down. He’s never been shy about being naked, there’s not much room for it these days even if he was. But, he feels laid out, bare, lying on expensive blankets and hard as a rock, watching Slade undress with practiced ease despite the obvious tightness of his own slacks. 

  


It’s like this barely even moves him, impacts him, even though Dick can already feel sweat in his hair, that irritated sense of anticipation. He wants Slade to hurry the fuck up, to get his hands on his skin, his mouth. With a wicked grin, as Slade tugs his slacks down, folds them neatly on the dresser, Dick shifts on the bed. He lets his head hang off the end, so he’s looking at Slade upside down from the foot of the bed. 

  


There’s a mirror above the dresser, knows Slade can see him, so he starts stroking his cock, nice and slow motions, bites his lip. Slade does his best to be unphased by it, but Dick can see his cock jump at the sight before Slade turns around, sharp eye focused on him and that look alone almost feels like too much. 

  


“Did I say you could touch yourself?” Dick goes to make a smarmy retort, he’s never been one to be bullied or pushed around by a client, but instead he finds his hand finding purchase in the sheets instead. “Good boy.” 

  


Slade’s praise rolls over him like crushed velvet, and Dick will probably have to diagnose when all of this changed later, when he’s back at home with Jason and explaining this whole thing to him. The crazy story about how he wanted this more than the client, looked at the tent in his boxers and literally salivated. 

  


“Fuck, your gorgeous.” Slade brushed his hand down Dick’s toned stomach, pinching at his pecks. There’s red on his neck that’s spread to his chest, his cock straining against his belly as Slade scrutinizes him, makes him feel hot just from looking at him. Then Dick is pulling at Slade’s briefs, opening his mouth with his tongue out, encourages Slade to roll his hips, his cock slipping past Dick’s lips and down his throat. Dick’s hands encouraging on Slade’s thighs. 

  


Dick can’t see Slade from here, has to use his instincts to swirl his tongue, to swallow around him, waits for the telltale gasps and strained thrusts. He squeezes Slade’s thighs in encouragement, and groans when Slade starts moving faster. His cock sliding in and out of Dick’s mouth with wet slurps. 

“Mouth like that,” Slade’s voice sounds calm and composed, but when Dick slides his tongue along his balls, his voice gets this fucked out broken pitch at the end. “I dunno how anyone lets you leave the house.” 

  


Slade pulls out with a wet pop, Dick’s lips are red and swollen, spit gathered on his cheeks and he looks like a fucking mess. It takes all of Slade’s self control not to cum right there, paint Dick’s face with stripes of white and makes a mess of him. Leave him to wait until Slade’s ready to go again, cock hard. 

  


“That all you got old man?” Dick asks, his eyebrow raised, his voice fucked out and strained from Slade fucking his face. 

: : :

  


Dick’s shaking two hours later, on his hands and knees over Slade’s chest. He thinks he might die like this, might just collapse and sink into the floor. His cock is so hard, he doesn’t know what to do with it. He’s got barely any friction on it, and its dribbling precome all over Slade’s chest, painting it slick. 

  


Slade’s got two fingers in his hole, scissoring and stretching, and then crooking his fingers and hitting that  _ spot  _ that makes Dick’s toes curl and his head bow. Then Slade’s got his tongue following, he’s got a vice grip on Dick’s ass, pressed against his face. Grunting when Dick remembers enough to wrap his mouth around Slade’s cock to moan long and hard at the sensation of Slade tongue fucking him. 

  


“Fuck, I need you to fucking touch me.” Dick whines, and Slade laughs behind him, his breath catching on the sensitive skin where Slade’s stubble has rubbed him raw. 

  


“M’ a bit busy.” Slade shrugs, watches as another one of his fingers sinks into Dick. Crooks his knuckle until he can feel Dick shake, can see the muscles in his thighs quiver. Then he gives his balls a gentle tug, and Dick can feel that release that’s been building dip back down again and he bites Slade’s thigh in frustration. 

“I’m dying.” Dick whines, groans and pushes back against Slade’s tongue kisses against his ass. “Literally dying.” 

  


“This could all be fixed, you know. But you’re just being a spoiled little brat. Not even being polite.” Slade’s tongue slides inside of him again, fingers squeezing his ass so hard he knows it’ll be bruised. Slade gives him a playful smack, and he knows there’s red handprints from that too, the whole is just so sensitive. 

  


Dick just needs more, he needs release, he needs, “Fuck me. Please?” He asks quiet, and Slade pulls back.

  


“What was that sweetheart?”

  


“Please fuck me, please let me come,  _ fuck,  _ please?”  Dick’s got sweat plastered to his brow, its dripping down his back, catching in the dimples above his ass in a way that Slade just wants to lick a stripe of. He’s making shallow thrusts against anything, to get some kind of friction, hands clenching the sheets like he was told to do. 

  


He’s a work of art like this, fucked out and begging. He looks back at Slade, with his fingers scissoring in his ass, stretching him open so much it actually burns. The blue is swallowed up by black, an abyss of need and want. 

  


He doesn’t get like this, sex is a seasoned sport for Dick. It’s something he’s been doing for so long, he knows what he likes, he knows what other people like. It’s almost a game, to see if his assumptions are right. If the men he pegs for quickies, cold and detached, if they play into Dick’s hand. If he can bend them to something new, something thrilling. A show. 

  


In the limelight, Dick gives them what they want. But, this is entirely different. He hasn’t  _ wanted  _ to be fucked in a long time. Not like this, not a begging mess as Slade eats his ass, shoves fingers inside him and murmurs hot gravel over his skin. 

  


“Since you’ve been such a good boy.” There’s a grin in Slade’s voice, a want and a need and Dick shivers. Then the fingers are unceremoniously pulled out, Dick feels empty, clenches around the sensation of it. 

  


“On your stomach.” 

  


There’s that controlling tone again, assertive and … something else Dick can’t place. It has him scrambling to listen, to get up and reposition himself on the bed. To wait, ass in the air, his arms folded and his head resting on them for Slade to decide what to do. 

  


There’s nothing for a while, just the cold sensation of air rushing over Dick’s sweat slick skin. He can’t see Slade from where he is, doesn’t even feel the dip in the bed to indicate he’s moved. He thinks to turn and look, to say something smarmy, but all that comes out is a quiet and breathy, fucked out, “Touch me?” 

  


“Christ kid.” Slade groans, and his calloused hands are on Dick. Sliding up the long planes of his back, over the fat of his ass. “You’re a fucking sight.” He slides a hand up his crack, spreading lube as he moves. Dick moans loud and hard into his arms, flexes his hip, his hard cock painting his belly and pristine hotel sheets with precome. 

  


The other finds its way between Dick’s shoulder blades, over to wrap lightly around his neck. It’s not a threat, there’s no pressure, its a promise of a next time, if Dick will let him. It makes Dick whimper and flex against the sheets on instinct. Then there’s the pressure of Slade’s cock against him, rubber sliding against the lube before he slips inside. 

  


Dick’s been finger fucked for what feels like forever, his ass is dripping spit and lube down his thighs and he had the foresight to fuck himself that morning. Even with all that prep, Slade is big, slides in with a stretch and a burn that has Dick hissing a moan. 

  


They’ve been on the edge all night, both of them, Dick’s throat working Slade, and Slade’s tongue and fingers working Dick. Neither of them is going to last long, and Dick’s not expecting it. Just the pleasant sensation of getting fucked until they both come exhausted. What he’s not expecting, is for Slade to grab his hips and set a damning pace. 

  


Shoving Dick forward just so, until he’s crying out and scrambling for purchase on the sheets, biting into the meat of his arm until Slade grabs his hair and growls out “I want to hear you come.” A strong arm wraps around Dick’s chest, hauls him up and pulls him against Slade’s strong chest.

  


Then there’s a hand working his chest, pulling hard at the sensitive buds of his nipples, then slipping lower, finally,  _ finally,  _ grabbing hold of his cock. Slade pumps his wrist in time with his thrusts, and Dick feels like he’s going to explode. He can feel Slade’s hips starting to stutter, can hear his moans around the room, Slade’s grunts against his ear. 

“Fuck Slade, fuck, I’m, fuck.” Then Dick is coming, tightening around Slade’s cock like a vice. Painting cum up his chest, over Slade’s hand, on the bed in thick ropes. Then Slade’s pulling out of him, pushing him down. The sound of the condom snapping is the only thing that warns Dick before he can feel ropes of hot cum paint his back and ass. Slade’s ragged breath and a controlled groan rolling over him, making his cock stir already. 

  


There’s a moment, where they just lie there, breathing heavy. Dick always finds this part the worst, but he’s usually not this blissed out. Cleans up, pulls his pants on and heads out until the next time. Except, Slade lies back on the bed beside him, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. Then Slade’s raising his hand to his mouth and licking Dick’s cum off of his hand, leaning in to kiss and share. 

  


It’s a filthy kiss, Slade’s licking inside Dick’s mouth, the salty flavor of his own come painting his tongue. 

  


“You’re a mess kid.” Slade mumbles, looks down at Dick. “Let’s get you cleaned up, huh?”

  


Slade helps Dick get cleaned up in the large shower, massages shampoo into his hair, body wash into his skin. He wraps Dick an expensive robe that he thinks about taking, and the two drift off on the large bed with CNN playing in the background. 

  


When Dick wakes up late the next morning, its to Slade peppering his back with kisses, rutting against him. Thy fuck slow and lazy, and then Dick drifts off again. When he wakes up in the large suite, its empty. There’s a note on the bedside table, next to an envelope.   
  
  


_ Take what you want, company expense. See you soon.  _

  
  
As Dick looks down at his hickey painted body, slick and wet, he thinks for the first time that he hopes to see a client again. Leans back against expensive pillows with a sigh before he hits ignore on his phone. Roy can wait.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my new trashy au! I hope you enjoy. I'll be posting a lot more in this series, probably out of order. Basically, it's just gratuitous making ends meet sex work. You all know the drill. Practice safe sex, be smart, don't use this piece of fiction as personal instruction. If I missed any tags or triggers, PLEASE let me know and I will add them right away.


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